


Fairytale

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [29]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Happy Ending, Minor Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Self-Loathing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: "A curse, you say?" said Ashe thoughtfully. "That sounds a bit like a story I might read in a book of fables."The corners of his lips turned upward and a giddiness he hadn't possessed in weeks saturated his tone. "And those curses and spells always have a way to be broken! If you truly believe that you're cursed, Marianne, then we’ll just have to break it, won’t we?”
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Marianne von Edmund
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to Beepy! It's so fun to talk about Mariashe and Hilspar with you!
> 
> Double dipping for Felannie discord's prompt "Cross-House friendships/romances" and for Fluffcember's "assurances."
> 
> I decided to break each of my vignettes into chapters and plan to update every two days or so.

With a hearty fish and turnip stew bubbling steadily in the hearth, anyone would find the kitchen to be a comfortable respite from the rainy day draft pervading the rest of the monastery. 

Anyone but Marianne. 

Instead, a nervous tremor coursed down her spine and the heat only served to bring upon a chilled sweat. All but a few feet away, Ashe attended to the stew, using a wooden ladle to stir the concoction round and round. He hummed a festive hymn, filling the uncomfortable silence between them.

How many times had they almost collided while reaching around each other for ingredients in this cramped space? Even with gloves on her hands to protect the food from her contaminated touch, Marianne’s face was still exposed. Still a hazard that had already threatened Ashe’s life two times. Only Marianne’s panicked rush of adrenaline had spared him of the Beast’s curse.

Inexorably, the number of sins she needed to confess to the Goddess was growing larger by the second. She’d need to apologize for the very magnitude at this point. Whatever punishment the Goddess smited her with would be indubitably deserved. Afterall, the most sinful of all her transgressions was the fact that she enjoyed this time alone with Ashe. 

Even though her mind screamed reprimands, over and over she dared to lift her eyes from her own task to spy at Ashe as he worked. His culinary talents entranced her in an inexplicable way— how could someone move so nimbly and confidently with so much chaos set before him? And why did he devote such consideration to her, righting her every clumsy mistake, and taking the responsibilities she disliked the most upon himself without her ever expressing them? 

He already thought her a spooky specter, and here she was haunting him with her fiendish stare.

She really was a horrible monster.

Catching herself staring once again, Marianne pulled her gaze away from Ashe and returned it to the onion under her gloved fingers. Quietly, she set back to task, chopping it into thin slices. 

The thud of the knife against the wood of the table must have drawn Ashe’s attention, for he stopped humming. 

Over the crackle of the fire and the pops of bubbling broth, he gently said, “I think we’re all set on onions, Marianne.”

“Oh,” she muttered, sinking her head lower and ceasing to chop. “This isn’t for the stew. Caspar doesn’t like fish, so...um...I thought I’d make him something he’d enjoy more.”

“Is that so?” The mirth in his voice caused her heart to twist with a longing she knew she had no right to feel. “I’ve actually never noticed that. His meals _do_ tend to vanish before I even have the chance to blink!”

Ashe’s laughter grew brighter, and it took every ounce of Marianne’s will not to treat her eyes to his merry countenance. Instead, she solemnly nodded her head and resumed slower paced chops.

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Marianne,” Ashe continued, voice all too sweet— she didn’t deserve such a kind regard. 

She wanted to correct him, to inform him that any considerate action she took could never make up for the sins of the blood flowing through her veins. In fact, anyone should be wary of good deeds received from her. Yet, Ashe hadn’t understood before in the Cathedral, so she decided it best to offer no reply.

Besides the rhythmic thud of Marianne’s knife and the pops emitting the stew, that palpable silence fell between them once again, unsettling perhaps, but common in Marianne’s company. The hush persisted until broken by the faint _clomps_ of a carrot rolling down the wooden counter, followed by a light smack as a hand caught it before it fell off the edge.

With a gasp, Marianne jumped and snapped her eyes up to find Ashe mere inches away. How had he traversed the room without so much of a sound? The stealth of a former thief was something to marvel at indeed. Doomed to ineptitude, Marrianne could never dream of possessing such deft prowess.

Ashe returned the carrot to the pile of its kind. Then, he looked over the assortment of other vegetables scattered across the table. 

“All right!” he bubbled as he proceeded to readjust his rolled sleeve. “How can I help? What are we making?”

Baffled by his effortless offer, Marianne recoiled away and stuttered, “I— I really don’t want to bother you with extra work. This wasn’t on today’s menu and it was my idea to make it, so I’ll take this responsibility upon myself.”

Hadn’t Marianne caused enough trouble for others lately? Just yesterday Hilda had to clean up her blunder in the library, much to the displeasure of her classmate. Unsurprisingly, Marianne had been utterly useless, leaving disaster in her wake like always. No matter how small or grand, she really ought to handle tasks on her own. It was better for everyone.

 _Safer_ for everyone. 

For them. As well as for Marianne. 

Beasts didn’t deserve friends. And try as she might, Marianne wasn’t strong enough to not long for comradery. Loneliness hurt, even if it was self-inflicted, and well warranted.

The proximity— Ashe’s kindness— it only served to make that pain more unbearable, and to fill her head with _fairytales._

“It’s not any trouble,” Ashe insisted. “Caspar’s my friend.” He grabbed the spare paring knife that lay next to a basket of onions. “I’m happy to help! The stew really doesn’t need me babysitting it anymore.”

Marianne whirled around in alarm, feeling helpless. Feeling _troublesome_. “No, really, I—” 

She bumped the table and the same carrot rolled away. Just like before, Ashe caught it right before it tumbled off the edge.

“Woah there!” he laughed.

Marianne’s breath caught as his elbow grazed against her arm. 

“So, how about if I handle these pesky carrots before they all run away?” Ashe flashed her a smile. “And I’ll cut up the cabbage as well. I’ll leave the rest of the onions and tomatoes to you.”

“No, Ashe, I really can manage fine on my own.” Even as she said the words, the protest wasn’t felt in her heart. Willing a small amount of defiance, she took the cabbage and placed it in front of her.

Ashe’s smile didn’t falter. “I insist. I know you like to visit the stables after cooking duty and treat the horses to the scraps of vegetables. Let’s get those to them as fast as possible, all right?”

Carefully, he reached to reclaim the cabbage.

Marianne’s heart stopped for a moment. He took that much notice of someone as forgettable as her?

A chill ran down her back again. She didn’t deserve his kindness and she certainly couldn’t allow someone to pay her so much attention. Even if she secretly, wrongfully felt gratified by this divulgence, the Crest of the Beast would maim him if he kept getting...so _close_.

She had to put a stop to this. For both their sakes.

“You should just stay away from me!” Marianne blurted in a high-pitch shriek, eyes squeezed closed in cowardice. She leapt back, returning the distance between them to a safe propinquity.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that disaster struck. Bad luck walked in her wake, now just like always. The runaway carrot had just been a taunting premonition.

As Marianne flailed away, her hand knocked into the disputed cabbage, propelling it into the air. For a moment, it seemed to soar, suspended, as Marianne’s stomach fell, dread and horror sinking it like a ship. Then time restarted, and the vegetable splashed into the cauldron on the opposite wall of the room, shooting up stew. The hot liquid rained down onto the cobblestoned floor, chunks of fish and turnip creating haphazard patterns in the splatters and puddles. A fair amount splashed across the bottom of Marianne’s skirt.

She stared wide-eyed at the carnage as Ashe turned with a start to the hearth, assessing the condition of the remaining stew.

“I’m s-sorry!” Marianne stammered.

Conflict writhed in her heart. This should be the perfect testament to why he should stay away. Yet, the part of her that yearned for his company protested with a fierce aversion.

To both her delight and horror, Ashe was predictably all too kind.

“It’s only a little accident,” he reassured, eyes darting from the cauldron to the floor. “I’ll get a mop and—”

_No._

_No._

No matter how much she relished that warmth directed to her, no matter how much she wished it could melt away her frigid solitude, Marianne knew what happened to those who got too close— to those who cared about her.

Her voice sounded distant as she shouted. “You don’t understand, Ashe! Everything that comes in contact with me is cursed! I’m...I’m a monster! You should stay away from me! For your own good!”

She backed further away, legs shaking, arms seeking the support of the counter to keep her upright.

Ashe’s eyes blew wide, his shock palpable. Then his gaze found hers, piercing and almost sorrowful. 

He shook his head. “ _You?_ A monster? I find that hard to believe.” 

His voice grew so soft, and his smile even more gentle. “I don’t think a monster would remember that Caspar dislikes fish. Only a considerate and compassionate person would be capable of that.”

Marianne shook her head in protest and cast her eyes to the floor where stew speckled the stone. Her heart felt so heavy. “You don’t know anything about me, Ashe.”

“Maybe I don’t know much now, but I’d really like to get to know you better.”

She lifted her eyes for half a second and spied Ashe’s smile. Her pulse leapt and she immediately returned her gaze downward. How could that smile have become even more radiant? 

“I hope you’ll consider giving me the chance,” he added sincerely, but Marianne could only twist her skirt between her fingers in reply.

What Marianne wanted and what the Crest of the Beast would permit were irreconcilable.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko)!


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